A Dance Among a Memory
by crimsonkoteto
Summary: Karkat discovers a secret dream bubble that he uses to escape the chaos of the meteor - his one place to relax during his dreams. One night he discovers exactly who the dream bubble belongs to, and the mystery person reveals more about Karkat's true self and history than the young troll has ever known before. Rated M for language and smut in second and final chapter.


**(A/N: This is based on a roleplay I had with Tumblr user grimdarkcronus. She was Karkat and I was the Signless. Please enjoy! This is the first chapter in a two-chapter fic and there will be some slightly triggering smut in the second chapter, so be forewarned.)**

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><p>Karkat trudged through the stomach-high grass, his hands in his pockets as he wandered around the dream bubble he had woken up in a few minutes earlier. He had visited this place a few times before, but he still hadn't encountered its owner. The area he had appeared in was some sort of meadowed valley surrounded by giant boulders. Bright, rainbow splotches of wildflowers were scattered among the grass, and Karkat recognized the starry Alternian sky above him. The scenery strangely comforted him. Relaxation and peace were two things he desperately needed. When he was awake, he could barely catch his thoughts trying to rally up what was left of his shitty team into planning for when they got off the meteor. When Karkat finally managed to get some sleep, he was constantly trying to escape the obnoxious whining of his dancestor. He was stuck on a shitty rock with a bunch of idiots - except for Kanaya, but she was always busy with Rose - and in his dreams he was forced to deal with a bunch of shitty, teenage alternate versions of their ancestors. His chance encounters with this little slice of paradise were the only things keeping him sane.<p>

Yet, for all its tranquility, this was a dream bubble. These objects, this place, was someones memory, but whose? Normally by this time Karkat would be splayed in the grass and watching the moon as he relaxed, but this time, he was on a mission. He was determined to discover the identity of the mystery troll before he woke up. He had been walking for a while when he spotted what looked like a cave entrance in the side of the rocks. Perfect.

Meanwhile, a strange troll laid relaxed on his back in the grass, the flora hiding him away out of view. His gray and crimson cloak was fanned out from his shoulders with the hood acting as a sort of pillow. The full-body leggings he constantly wore were warm enough to keep the gentle breeze away from his skin. A small scruff of stubble decorated his jawline, stretching up to his hair. The Signless smiled slightly to himself. _Another relaxing night,_ he thought. He braided a few flowers into the shape of a crown, his hands skilled and careful of the gentle petals. It was one of the more time-consuming hobbies he had been using to preoccupy his sweeps in the afterlife. His many, many, many sweeps. The troll had actually lost count on how long he had been dead. He sighed.

It was lonely, despite the occasional run-ins with other ghosts. Then again, he was alone even before his death. They had kept him isolated before his execution. So the emptiness he experienced in his memories wasn't a foreign feeling. His blood-pusher ached for company. The only one he had encountered recently was his alternate self, Kankri, and that had been sweeps ago. That had been a strange encounter. The teenage troll was so similar to him, and at the same time they had vastly different personalities. Kankri had described Beforian society to him, one where the Empress was kind and the hemocaste was an unthinkable concept. Every troll was equal, and mutants weren't considered pariahs. This, however, had given the teenager a 'holier than thou, special snowflake' attitude. The younger troll had actually reprimanded him for swearing. The Signless rolled his eyes at the memory. However, he _had_ gained some valuable information from his bratty alternate self. Kankri had described the ongoings of his youngest descendant, Karkat. According to his alternate self, the young troll was in the middle of quite a remarkable adventure. The ancestor smiled fondly as he thought about his lineage. He hoped that he would have a chance to meet the young troll someday.

Meanwhile, Karkat continued walking, his gaze focused on the cave entrance. He wondered what kind of troll had such peaceful, beautiful memories. Maybe it was a dancestor that he hadn't met. Maybe it was one of his deceased teammates. Karkat groaned at that thought. He hoped not. He couldn't stand the thought of having to deal with one of those assholes again, nor could he handle the guilt that would surely be pointed his way for being such a shitty leader that he couldn't stop them from getting killed. On the other hand, running into one of the other dancestors wasn't a bright concept either, because it ran the risk of him running into that loud-mouthed douche-sack that was his DNA counterpart. Kankri was a mouthy basket of social-justice nookstain, and Karkat wanted to stay as far away from him as he possibly could. He grumbled at his hate-filled thoughts and mumbled out loud to himself about asshole ghosts. He was so absorbed in his own mind that he didn't notice the large object that obstructed his path, but he became aware of it pretty damn fast when his legs collided with it, causing him to fall forward and land squarely on his face. Karkat groaned when he felt the sharp pain erupting from the center of his face as his nose crumpled against the ground, the sensation blurring his vision for a few moments.

The Signless wheezed as the breath was knocked out of him by the foot quickly being embedded in his side. He sat up on instinct to counterattack the assaulter, or at least discover their identity, but was pushed flat on his back again by a small figure collapsing in lap. The crown that had been in his hands dropped and landed on his face, causing the troll to cough and hack as flower petals got in his mouth. Once it was clear of flora, the Signless opened his mouth to reprimand his attacker but froze when he noticed a pair of nubbed horns nestled in a messy nest of black hair. His hand went up to feel his own horns. A match. The troll examined the younger male in his lap and noticed that he was wearing what looked like a black turtleneck. Oh. Oh dear. Kankri said that the boy was a bit of a mess, but this was rather silly. This had to be his descendant. The Signless quickly set the crown aside and brushed the flower petals from his cloak before pulling the hood up over his head. Although tattered and worn, his cloak was probably the only thing Karkat would recognize him by. He gently pulled the troll up by his shoulders. "Are you alright, young one?"

"Y-Yeah. Fuck. Jesus, I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention," Karkat mumbled, scrambling to get off the larger troll. Damn, this was embarrassing. He opened his mouth to apologize further but quickly shut it and started panicking when he felt a trickle of blood running over his lip. He quickly covered his mouth and nose, ignoring the further pain it caused. Shit, this was bad. This was so bad. He was bleeding his disgusting mutant blood all over the place in front of a complete stranger. Karkat quickly tried to kick himself away, wanting to put distance between himself and the other troll. God, he'd be culled for this, or beaten, or worse. He had to get away.

The Signless frowned beneath his hood. Of course his descendant would be a clumsy little shit. He realized Karkats predicament and quickly pulled a cloth from a pocket within his cloak so that he could offer it to the boy. "I won't harm you, Karkat. Please calm down. Here, you can use this to clean yourself up," the troll crooned, setting the cloth in Karkats free hand. The poor boy looked terrified. It was understandable with the situation, especially with the history of their blood color. Karkat probably thought that he was going to be culled or something.

Karkat stared up at the elder troll in suspicious fear. Who the hell was this guy? He started to move the cloth up to his face but hesitated, his eyes roaming over the large man before him. This troll was much older. He was an adult troll, maybe at least ten or fifteen sweeps. Karkats eyes widened in surprise and confusion. The cloak, the large horns so similar to his own, the pale eyes that showed the evidence of his death. Holy shit. Somehow, someway, he was staring directly at his ancestor. How? How the hell was this possible? How could he enter his ancestors dream bubble? How could the elder even HAVE a dream bubble? Wouldn't the Empress have eliminated any possibility of that? Karkat continued gaping in wonder, only snapping out of his daze when he felt the blood seeping out from between his fingers that were covering his mouth. He quickly pressed the cloth to his face and looked away, his ears turning a light red. "I..uh..thanks.."

The ancestor smiled slightly and took the cloth back so that he could clean Karkats face himself. "You don't need to be afraid of me, my dearest descendant," he murmured, mopping the blood off of the young trolls face. "Your nose doesn't look too badly injured. However, you took quite the fall," he said with a sympathetic chuckle. He continued cleaning until almost every trace of their shared candy blood was gone. "Are you alright?"

Karkat scrunched his face up as he was cleaned like a wriggler. He wasn't afraid. He just… "The only adult troll I've ever seen is the Empress. And even that wasn't face to face. So excuse me for being a little bit cautious around your kind," he grumbled as his cheek was rubbed. It was definitely a surprise, especially having only encountered teenager after fucking teenager in dream bubble hell. "You're…" Karkat paused. Kankri had mentioned the title of his alternate self, but it had slipped his mind. He never listened to the teens rants, nor did he hold onto every word. "...the Signless?" he finished with a guess. Yeah. that sounded about right.

"That is one of my titles, yes. It's good to see that Kankri his job of keeping you informed of your history," the ancestor said, chuckling lightly. He set the stained cloth aside and returned his attentions to the flower crown he had been making before their incident. He carefully braided another flower into the circlet, his brow furrowing as he concentrated. "What brings you to my dream bubble? I haven't had a visitor since Kakri passed through a few sweeps ago."

"Um. Wandering in my sleep, I guess? I've been here before, but I've never seen you," Karkat said, relaxing slightly. He felt safer, knowing that he wasn't in any danger here. "I didn't really think that it was possible to meet you, actually. Or that you even existed still," he continued. He observed the aged troll, the fact that he couldn't see the others face a slight agitation. The Signless had wide, sloping shoulders that accented his tall height, and connected to those were a pair of lean and muscled arms. Karkat had to admit that his ancestor looked pretty strong. Yet his hands were gentle enough to manipulate the flower crown. So this was the troll that had led a rebellion against the Condescension? A failed rebellion, at that, but the fact that he had tried was still pretty admirable.

The ancestor smirked when he noticed Karkat gaping at him. "The Condesce allowed my dream self to live on in exile as some sort of eternal punishment for the rebellion. Or so she said. Who knows her actual reason? Her mind is like a basket of crazy meow-beasts," he said sarcastically, braiding a few more flowers and strands of grass into the crown. He glanced over at Karkat again after a few moments, on eyebrow raised. "I assume that you have questions for me. Is that correct?"

"Well, you're not wrong," Karkat huffed, crossing his arms. "Of course I'd have a considerable amount of inquiries for my ancestor, preacher of the lowbloods and overall giant fucking mystery." He rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Like, how your ass managed to stay alive for so many sweeps, why you decided to fuck it all up by sticking your nose in the rebellion, why the hell you wear tights hiked up to your god damned armpits..." He trailed off, counting his questions off on his fingers. "You could say I have a few."

The ancestor frowned and yanked his hood down to give Karkat the sternest look he could muster, but the expression ended up looking more like an immature pout. "They are leggings. LEGGINGS. Not 'tights hiked up to my god damned armpits,' as you so crudely put it," he corrected, running a hand over the scruff on his jawline. "And if you're true to your destiny, you'll wear them too someday. Just like Kankri does." The Signless continued his craft work for a few more silent moments until the crown was finished. The ghost smiled and proudly set the circlet atop his head.

Karkat raised his eyebrows questioningly at the display. This asshole was definitely not was everyone had built him up to be. He was just like an oversized wriggler, making flower crowns and pouting whenever someone insulted his douchebag pants. Where was the angry, powerful Sufferer? The destiny comment made him sneer. "No, I'd probably obliterate myself from existence the very nanosecond I even considered donning a pair of legendary asshole 'leggings.'"

The ancestor rolled his eyes and ignored the comment as he shifted to his earlier comfortable position of laying on his back in the grass. He sighed, closing his eyes. Clearly, karkat would not listen to logical, mature conversation. He was still so childish, with a massive attitude and a chip on his shoulders. Maybe a shift in his own attitude would catch his descendant's interest. "You should think before you use such harsh language against people," Signless said, opening one eye to glance at Karkat coyly. "They might think you're an asshole."

The shorter troll snorted, caught off guard by his ancestor's sudden crude language. "It wouldn't be surprising if that's how people described me. It's not an inaccurate statement," he replied with a sniff, examining his ancestor. The elder seemed so...peaceful. A flower crown sitting askew in his hair, the majority of it tilted down onto his forehead. His eyes closed, a strangely serene smile on his face. With such a calm image, it was hard to believe that this was the troll who had lit a fire under the asses of the lowbloods and helped rally them up to rebel against the Ancient Alternian hierarchy. Karkat knew the vague story behind his ancestor's life, and the description of the man bleeding to death while screaming expletives at the highblood government was not an image easily forgotten. This was such a fierce contrast to the troll before him, so what the hell had happened?

The Signless glanced over at the teen's stormy face and turned onto his side in order to properly face his descendant, the flower crown falling to the ground with a light 'poomf'. "So your questions, then? I can only imagine what sort of wild stories have been spread about me over the decades. I'd love to hear the gossip," he joked. The smile on his face was light-hearted and playful, but beneath that his mind darkened as he recalled some of the things Kankri has thrown his way. Coward. Foolish. Idiotic. The ancestor's smile twitched downwards slightly with his thoughts.

Karkat hesitated before opening his mouth. He definitely didn't want to stick his foot in his mouth any further than he already had, but he wasn't sure which questions would be offensive to ask. Despite seeming like a big wriggler, Karkat still held a lot of confused respect for his ancestor, and he didn't want the guy hating him for saying something completely idiotic or rude. Still, there was one main question nagging him, and it was one that had scratched at the back of his mind ever since he had become privy to the knowledge of the Signless's history. The teen continued his silence for a few more moments, gathering his courage before speaking. He drew in a deep breath and looked the elder troll square in the face. "Why did you do it? Why did you help the rebellion? You must have known it would fail. You were going up against a galactic empire for shit's sake!" Karkat paused, running his hand through his hair in frustration and taking a moment to calm himself. "Not to mention: you're a mutant. If you would have kept your mouth shut you could have had a chance to live as long a healthy life as our caste would have allowed."

The elder's expression fully drooped, a deep sadness entering his eyes. He recognized the emotions in his descendant's voice. Hurt. Confusion. Disappointment. That was the question he knew was going to be asked. The one Kankri had been too prideful or ashamed of to ask. He sat up straight, the childish demeanor leaking from his face to be seemingly replaced by sweeps of age and remorse. "I know. I knew full well that the rebellion would result in my death. There wasn't any other outcome for a mutant or a rebel. However, my execution was necessary. it helped fueled the flames of the rebellion. Being a mutant was a bonus, I suppose, to the situation. It forced the highbloods to listen to what we were saying. It forced other lowbloods to pay attention to our cause and join up in the fight," he explained with a deep sigh. His voice sounded almost raspy, as if merely speaking about the situation exhausted him. "To some, my sermons seemed like a desperate last plea. One last chance at shoving a big middle finger at the highbloods. But really...my group was a cry for hope. I thought that if we didn't stand up for what we believed in, then there was no chance at all that things might change. Even with near impossible chances, why not at least give it a try?" The troll gave Karkat a weary smile.

The mutant gaped at his ancestor in awe, deciding to bite his tongue and hold back on any more pessimistic or negative inquiries. He couldn't say _shit_ about his ancestor. What the teen would have normally called idiocy was, in all honesty, incredible bravery. Karkat really was a damn coward in comparison, and the old troll sitting before him was quite possibly the most gallant fucker Karkat had ever come across. He had a feeling of it from the moment he heard about the martyr that was his ancestor, even if he never wanted to admit it. The Cancer lowered his gaze and considered the elder's words, The rebellion hadn't done anything to change Alternia for the better, but that didn't take away from the fact that what the Signless had done was...it wasn't stupid by any stretch of the word. However, Karkat couldn't bring himself to say those words. It would feel like an understatement; it wasn't quite enough of a comment of praise to give his ancestor. That and the fact that Karkat would never have the guts to actually say it to his face. The teen simply, quietly, laid down in the grass and stared up at the memory of the Alternian night sky.

The Signless gently ruffled Karkat's hair and let out a quiet laugh. "Ah, how I wish had more power to change things for you, my dear Karkat. Kankri was fortunate to have lived the future I envisioned in his Beforian society. But you were less fortunate, and despite our best efforts, are still shunned due to your tainted caste. And for that I'm sorry. Sorry for not being able to do more, for not having insured the rebellion would be successful in changing our culture," he said, turning his head to follow the teen's gaze at the night sky. He admired it for a few long, silent moments, enjoying the quiet rustling of the grass.

Yes, he was disappointed in how Alternia's future had turned out. For sweeps in the afterlife, not knowing the outcome of the rebellion had nearly eaten away at his soul and plagued his mind. Running into his alternate self had been a blessing of sorts. He had gained the knowledge he so desperately seeked, but now he wasn't' sure if it was an endeavor worth the rewards. His heart had broken when he learned of his planet's current state, or lack-thereof. What had been even worse was learning of his remaining descendant had been cursed with the gift of his final anger. His untimely rage had been passed down throughout the eons and culminated into Karkat, filling him with such hatred and despair. That was the ancestor's one true regret. His mistakes, his emotions, his life had been passed onto his dear descendant, something he wouldn't have wished upon even the Empress. The Signless let out a deep, despaired sigh before shaking his head and standing.

"It will be cold soon. We should retire back to my hive before it is too late," he said, gesturing to the same cave entrance Karkat had noticed earlier. This wasn't entirely true; temperature rarely changed in the afterlife. He simply wanted a change of pace to distract from the heavy topics. He doubted Karkat wished to hear anymore of the negative storm swirling around in his head. The ancestor gave the teen a small, hopefully reassuring smile before turning and heading towards the cave.


End file.
